Lucy, reading the London sky

Five miles along the Thames, Pimlico to Battersea Power Station and back, before most of her street is awake. Lucy runs the river most mornings, then drinks a very short coffee at the bar of her local café and spends the rest of the day in a pleasant kind of daydream. She is artistic and tender natured, and she has the rare gift of making an ordinary afternoon feel like the first page of a story.

A slender 163 cm, she has a cloud of long dark brown curls no brush has ever beaten, and brown eyes that wander to the window whenever the sky is doing something interesting. Her look is quietly bohemian, soft knits, a long skirt, silver rings on most fingers. She is in her mid twenties and speaks English thoughtfully, with pauses that are always worth waiting for.

Astronomy is her real passion. On a clear night she can find three planets without an app and will explain, patiently, why London is still a decent place to watch the moon. Her ideal evening climbs high: sunset drinks thirty five floors up in the Sky Garden on Fenchurch Street, the whole river laid out below, then a walk through the lanes to a hotel near Bank while she names whatever is bright enough to shine through the glow.

Pimlico is home, a short walk from Belgravia and the Victoria hotels, and she happily crosses town to the City for an evening. She takes daytime bookings and midweek evenings; message Henrietta with what you have in mind.